


With Me By Your Side

by Discussed_Literature



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: Angst, F/M, Happy Ending, M/M, Major Spoilers for TDOTL, Not Really Character Death, Since I'm a sucker for them, Up to reader whether its friendship or romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 18:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2280345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Discussed_Literature/pseuds/Discussed_Literature
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Forty Eight hours after the successful saving of the world, and Saracen Rue is very much alive and out of the hospital bed. But for all the celebrations he could be sharing with his friends, he finds himself standing in the middle of a ruined Roarhaven, and contemplating the so very recent past, and his immediate future. After all, what future could he be happy in, when he doesn't have Dexter Vex by his side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Me By Your Side

**Author's Note:**

> So I couldn't bear the idea of either these two men dying at the end of the series. I applaud Derek Landy for leaving the endings so vague, it gives plenty of ideas to the reader, and allows for you to create your own happy endings. Which is what I've done. So here is my take on Saracen Rue at the end of TDOTL, and his relationship with Dexter Vex. 
> 
> I may write a follow up if its popular enough with Dexter's point of view, but for now, enjoy!

The medical ward was a shambles. Or, close to it at least. 

Saracen groaned as he sat up, removing the IV line and searching around for his dress shirt. It was more than a little bit ripped, but he didn’t have a spare at hand at that second. 

Synecdoche looked over wide eyed, seeming to protest.

“Save it,” Saracen said before she could get a word in. “You need all the free beds you can get, and I’ve suffered worse. My bones have all been set and you have better patients to put your resources too.”

Synecdoche closed her mouth in a grim line before nodding.

“At least take some more leaves. Bones I can fix easily enough, but you’re going to be bruised pretty badly from the inside out for the next few days. Don’t do anything too strenuous” So saying, she passed him a handful of the medicinal herbs. 

“Any problems with breathing or moving and you come straight back to me, are we clear?”

“Of course doctor,” he mumbled. He waited till he was out of the room to stuff some of the pain relieving herbs into his mouth. His shoulders sagged with relief within the first few minutes, and his head felt clearer. He passed by Gracious and Donegan’s beds, made a quick look in on the Monster Hunters to ensure that, while they weren’t exactly whole and hale at the moment, they were at least together and recovering.

He made his way out of the medical wing, heading outside. He hadn’t been outside in two days, not since the battle that struck down at least half of Roarhavens’ population, along with half of Roarhaven itself. He hadn’t exactly been lucid once Darquesse had tossed what was effectively half a building on top of him, breaking his insides with all the weight of the towns ruined majesty. Thank God for people like Synecdoche at least. Her understanding of magical aided healing was next to none, surpassed only by the late Kenspeckle Grouse.

As Saracen reached the open air, he finally took in the destruction of the town. All around lay the waste of the newly born Roarhaven. Buildings were either half up or not at all. In places, blood marred the scene, evidence to the final moments of Sorcerers unfortunate enough to be caught in the wrath of Darquesse. Saracen didn’t feel exactly sad at the state of Roarhaven; it was a town built on betrayal and murder after all, and those who inhabited it could be equally guilty of the same crimes. 

There were some people milling about, trying to make sense of the past 48 hours. Saracen felt the increasing need to leave them, he had no energy or patience to look upon these broken men and women.

He took the scene in with a world weary sigh. He felt old, older than he had in a long time, gazing upon this sea of chaotic ruin. He rubbed a hand against his face, and carried on walking. Where, he didn’t know. He just needed to walk. Walking meant he had survived, walking meant that there were still places to walk to, that there wasn’t just death left for him.

He stopped for a moment, caught on a thought, before carrying on. Slower this time. Would have summoned a frown had he half the mental energy to do so.

News spreads surprisingly fast among the dying and injured. Soon, everyone was privy to the acts of China Sorrows and Erskine Ravel, and the two Dead Men known as Valkyrie Cain and Skulduggery Pleasant. In all the madness with Darquesse, the Accelerator had almost been forgotten. And Ravel… Ravel, that treacherous son of a bitch. Saracen hadn’t thought the man could orchestrate any other acts of such utter betrayal and stupidity. After the murder of Ghastly and Anton though, Saracen realised he didn’t really know the man he once called friend that well after all. And his last act proved so. To boost his own power in a hope to get away? To escape his punishment? And in doing so almost destroying the world for the second time within about five minutes of each other?

Saracen didn’t realise until the pain hit, and he looked down at his fist. He’d punched the wall in complete fury at the man. It wouldn’t have been so bad, had he not still been recovering from having his entire insides effectively broken and smashed against one another, bones and organs both. The pain overtook him and he leant against the wall, panting. He was angry at himself more than anything, angry at allowing his rage to blind him like that. Ravel wasn’t worth any pain, Ravel was hardly worth another thought, not even one of resentment. After all, the man didn’t exist anymore, not even in the afterlife.

Saracen felt a small smile creep up at that in spite of the now ebbing pain. Yes, Skulduggery really had out done himself with his last act towards Ravel. Thrusting Erskine into the Accelerator as proof of the soul Skulduggery was willing to sacrifice, it was either complete idiocy or brilliance. Trust Skulduggery to find the most audacious loophole that Saracen had ever heard. He made a mental note to buy the skeleton a drink, regardless of his inability to actually consume it. It was the thought that counted after all.

After a few more minutes to collect himself, Saracen carried on, heading towards the areas that hadn’t been so badly consumed by the fallout. Not to say they didn’t look like they had a tank thrown through them. In fact, around the next corner was a building with a truck jutting out its sides.

He walked, with a heart a little lighter than when he first got up. They had won. They had beaten the most powerful woman in the world, and dismantled the machine programmed to end the earths continued existence. The skeleton detective and his partner had succeeded and survived, as had her family. The Grand Mage and most beautiful woman in the world, China Sorrows, was equally alive. The last Teleporter on earth, Fletcher Renn, and the latest to join the band of the Monster Hunters Donegan Bane and Gracious O’Callaghan. All alive, all recovering. Even Tanith Low…

Saracen stopped walking, and while he was looking straight ahead he wasn’t actually taking any of his surroundings in.

Tanith Low had had her Remnant removed, had survived the ordeal, and was back to her pre-possession personality. Gorgeous Tanith, the woman who he had shared many a moonlight trysts with, had returned against all odds.

He should have been happy. He should have been ecstatic, so many had survived against such ordeals. It was cause for celebration. And yet here he was, alone in this derelict city, having wandered away from those he tried so hard to protect. And why?

You know why, his mind seemed to say, betraying his stoicism.

He sighed and closed his eyes. 

“Dexter…”

Dexter.

Tears blurring his vision caught Saracen unawares and he rubbed at his eyes furiously. He carried on walking, knowing that it was useless to think that you could walk away from your feelings but trying none the less.

Dexter was missing, last seen by Valkyrie. His Remnant had been torn from him, his body discarded without a second thought. After Valkyrie had removed the scepter from him, there had been no news on his fate. Either he had been picked up in the cleanup, deposited in the morgue for later identification, or he was yet to be found. Hell, maybe Darquesse had transformed his body into energy, meaning Saracen would never find him. He would never know the truth about what happened to his dearest friend, the man he had spent so long next to, so many years that time never even felt like years. The man who he had the most amazing and death defying adventures with, who spent every celebrated occasion together now that their families were long since gone, the man by his side no matter what foe they faced they were together always together where Saracen was Dexter was and oh Dexter!

Saracen was crying, of course he was crying Dexter was dead Dexter was dead dead DEAD

He stood, alone, for many minutes around the side of ruined alley ways, and wept into his hands. Wept for his friend. 

Dexter…

…

…Dexter?

Saracen abruptly looked up, stopped his wheezing gasps long enough to merely listen and feel the air and… Oh... Oh please let it be…

He took off at a sprint, his body protesting but he couldn’t care less, he had enough leaves left over to counter the pain later. All that mattered now was reaching for that source, that energy, he couldn’t be wrong, his powers were never wrong and yet… there.

Saracen came to a halt. Sat on the ground with his eyes closed, face up towards the increasingly darkening sky, sat none other than Dexter Vex.

Saracen sucked in a breathe. The man looked weary, and not a little bit broken, and yet… alive? With hope just on the cusp of erupting, he whispered the name of the man he may have lost.  
“Dexter…”

The eyes opened, and wearily turned towards Saracen. A breath was drawn in, the eyes became wide, and for a moment the two men merely looked at one another. Somewhere, a cat yowled and a woman’s cry of either despair or joy echoed.

“Saracen?”

Clarity came to Saracen. He finally took into account just how cold his body was, clad only in his shirt and bandages below. His only protection from the biting cold. 

Secondly, he become conscious of just how bloody handsome Dexter’s looked, even bruised and bloodied up. But his eyes, sad and sunken as they were, seemed to come alive with every second spent gazing up at his friend. Saracen noted the glassy look to them, the mix of hope and fear, and he knew he’d never find kinder eyes than that of Dexter’s. He could spend an eternity looking into those eyes. 

And finally, the relief he felt over seeing this very much living Dead Man could only be matched by an overwhelming sensation. Distantly, Saracen had to name it love. Love for this man, who he knew he could never live without. The day Dexter Vex died would be the day Saracen Rue died. 

It was behind these bruised buildings, with the smell of death still strong in his senses, and the derelict feeling of crushing loneliness surrounding his soul, that he finally understood what Dexter meant to him. He loved this man, loved him so much that the thought of even death no longer filled him with fear, for he now knew he would by no means face it alone.

He didn’t so much as rush to Dexter as he did fall, stumbling and grabbing hold of the wall for support. In an instant, he had his arms surrounding Dexter, crushing him to his aching mass, feeling that lean, muscular body beating with the warmth of the living. Dexter was shaking, his arms around Saracen, and Saracen realised he too was shaking, and crying, but that was okay because Dexter was crying too and the only words were their names and the only noise their panting breathes and soul weary sobs, but the emotions were whole.

After a time of just feeling the others living presence around them and pouring out their emotions, they came down from their hysteria, and settled with their backs to the crumbling building. They had an arm around the other another and their foreheads touching, and they looked across, towards the forested area surrounding Roarhaven and just basked in the company of the other. 

These men were soldiers, battle hardened warriors. Moments of raw emotions were rarely seen, if ever, and done in privacy, alone, where grief was best met for such men. But for now, a pure sentiment had passed between the two, and they couldn’t find it in them to regret it. Had things gone differently, maybe they would have joked, jested how it took the other long enough to find this one, and really, knowing how insufferable you are now almost makes me wish we hadn’t met back up, oh but Saracen you wound me! Yes well I’m not the one who spent the better part of the end of the world possessed now did I? Well at least I’m here for the end-of-the-world-averted party now come on I haven’t eaten properly in days and I think you owe me a drink thanks to my little trip down Remnant lane.

But joking is all well and good, and has its own brand of sentiment that only the closest of friends can share and truly understand the words not spoken. And yet, too much had to come to pass between these two men, that only an affirmation made in mankind’s greatest emotional outlet can be acceptable. This reunion could only be met with the sobs the men had shared, and that speaks words where sometimes language can’t help but to fail us.

“No one knew where you were,” Saracen began, “Synecdoche hadn’t treated you, and no one came forward to say that they found your body. We just…assumed.”

Dexter gave a soft snort of derision, “Yeah, I don’t blame you. The guy that patched me up wasn’t exactly in a very chatty mood”

He stood up, hand still on Saracens shoulder. They weren’t ready yet, to let go of the other. Not just yet, not with the ebbing dread and stinging loneliness still ready to encompass them.

“Come on, you’re freezing and its night time in the middle of winter. Look at you, you've only got a shirt on! And here I thought you were supposed to be the smart one out of us.”

Saracen grinned “Am I right in hearing an actual compliment from Dexter Vex to Saracen Rue?”

Dexter gave a mock look of horror “Oh God, the Remnant must have altered part of my egotistical personality! However will I live like this?!”

Saracen took his hand and stood up, arm wrapped around Dexter.

“Why, with me by your side, of course.”

Dexter looked at him sharply, no trace of humour found. Saracen merely gazed straight back into the eyes of the man he loved.

After a moment, when the wind picked up and Saracen felt himself close to shivering, a soft smile spread across Dexter’s face.

“But of course.”

They walked, arms around the others shoulder, back to the sanctuary, to their rooms where they could talk and live and exist, content only with the knowledge that the other was there, would always be there. Until the end.


End file.
